Tower of Boxes
by Peppermint Lizard
Summary: Juliett Adders is a young girl, kidnapped at the age of 7, held captive for years by a psychotic man she refuses to call by name. This man, Pierce, isn't one to be messed with. He has slowly broken her mind and spirit while tormenting her. But, hope is coming to her if she can just hold out a little longer. **The story has multiple story endings planned**
1. Chapter 1: The End of a Childhood

**Age 7**

Mommy tucked a purple and blue striped lunch box in my hands and spun me around. My blond pigtails swished about my head and I giggled. Mommy was in more of a rush than usual today, and today she was trusting me with walking to the bus stop by myself. The stop wasn't far, just four houses down to the right. I was seven, a first grader, and could do this by myself, even if Mommy did worry.

I think worrying is Mommy's hobby. She likes to worry about everything. She bites her nails when she does, and now she has no nails. When Auntie calls, Mommy talks about work and her new boss, the bills, price of things, and other things I don't quite understand yet. But that's why I go to school, to learn things. Mommy says I'm a smart girl, that I will do just fine when I grow up. I plan to do more than fine though, I plan to live so fine that Mommy and I won't have to worry about anything.

Mommy blew air kisses to me and shut the door behind me. I hopped the three steps leading from the front porch to the sidewalk. On my way down the sloping sidewalk, I picked up the prettiest leaves. The red ones were cool but my favorite was the golden-almost-orange ones. I passed the pumpkins we carved last night and smiled. My pumpkin had a smiley face with pointed teeth, Mommy made her's have tears while it laughed. Tomorrow night, for Halloween, I get to trick-or-treat with Jenny as zombie twins. Her house is right next to mine. Passing her driveway, I could count the nine pumpkins by the door. Six were carved, the other three were too small. I was so excited for another year of Halloween, and Mrs. Patterson, my teacher, was throwing a two-day in class party for us.

I skipped my way to the end of the street and looked around me. I was by myself. Jenny rode to school with her mom who taught the sixth graders. To keep myself from getting too bored I started to gather the leaves at my feet into a pile. There was a slight breeze that made it slightly difficult, but all the more fun.

I looked up when I heard a pair of footsteps stop close by me. There was a guy, about Jenny's oldest brother's age, out of highschool, crouching in front of me. His smile was nice. White, straight teeth. I think that smile made me trust him. Bad guys don't have smiles like that, or smile at all. They just sneer and spit and look mean. But not this guy, he seemed so nice. "It's boring waiting out here by yourself, isn't it?" He asked me, looking me in the eyes with his likeable smile. I was too shy to answer him out loud so I just gave a small nod, not talking my eyes off his face and his caramel colored eyes. "I am waiting for my friend to call, and I saw you waiting by yourself too, and I thought 'why don't we wait together?'" I smiled back at this. He seemed like a good person and he didn't sound crazy.

At my smile, he offered his hand. "Wouldn't want to lose my new friend, now would I?" A friend? Mommy always told me I need to make friends with more people. That I was too shy. I placed my tiny hand in his and that was it. My fate was sealed.

 **Age 8**

By the time of Halloween, one year later, I had had each of my arms broken once. My right one broke in a failed attempt to run away, the left broken to serve as punishment for it. I hurt my ankle from falling on it wrong. I was trying to get a window open but fell back instead. I haven't said anything about my ankle otherwise he may just break it. My eyes have started to go bad. I have to get pretty close to things to read them. When I said I needed glasses I got slapped. I know he hates when I "talk out of turn" but something in my refuses to let the pain stop me. Maybe Mommy was wrong. Maybe I'm not a smart girl. He keeps calling me an idiot.

 **Age 9**

Bruises aren't something I notice anymore. Something always hurting.

There's this big dude who comes into my little room in the basement every other day or so, and teaches me. He teaches math and science, and sometimes history. When I get answers wrong he hits me. The idea that he would hit me used to make me mad, now I know to know the right answer. I once asked him if he would teach me English as well, the next time I saw him had brought me a bunch of chapter books with big words. Told me to read those if I wanted to learn English.

The one who picked me up couldn't care less if I knew how to read. He called me an idiot among other things. Some of the insults I don't know, some I do and pretend I don't. He is around less, but when he is, he usually is in a bad mood. That smile of his that tricked me never showed up again.

 **Age 10**

Instead of three years, it felt like ten. He had "introduced" me to several different people. He called me his pet. Something was sick about him. Something in his brain. He had moments of craziness. That's why the I met the other people. They wanted me to be the guinea pig to test the medicine on. Mommy would be proud to know I got over my fear of needles.

The big dude doesn't teach me as often. He still brings me books, and the books are getting bigger with the words getting smaller. If I hold the books at the right distance, the words won't be fuzzy. There's this girl I see around too. She is their age and likes to be at the center of attention. She is always finding a reason to mess with me. When I can, I avoid everyone. It's like a game of hide-and-seek for me.

 **Age 11**

That medicine is bad. The voices don't stop. Ever. They never shut up. Even when I'm hungry or sick or in pain. I've tried to ignore them. I've even begged the voices to stop. I told his friends who are doctors but aren't about the voices. They just scribble it down and ignore me. When I told him, he started to chuckle, then laugh; he laughed until his sides hurt and he couldn't breathe. He clutched his sides and looked me in the eyes saying in raspy voice "finally someone hears them too!" That night I tried to sneak out. I got bitten by the dogs and my whole right arm swelled. I'm scared Mommy. I want to go home.

 **Age 12**

One of his friends brought a girl in to tell me why I was bleeding. Apparently it was a normal thing for girls. Means I'm "on my way to being an adult". I don't want to be an adult. The cramps are painful and it's a mess to deal with. I would rather stay a kid forever. Only upside is that I haven't heard voices in two months now. Just one. The voice likes to chat with me. We talk about the books I've read and about Mommy. But when _he_ is near me, the voice grows quite, like it iss scared too.

At least I have one friend here.

 **Age 16**

We had to move to a new place after a surprise fire (that I started) burned down the old one. _He_ go all pissed about it and complained and hit me over it. Blaming me on it, even when I know no one thought I could have started it. To them, I have become the thing mumbling to itself in the corner. I was nearly blind, in need of soap, and had a voice in my head as my friend. Even I could tell I was a freak. I lost my books, but I gained more privacy. I was in a room in the basement without any windows, and just one door. They threw me in there with the cardboard boxes left over from moving what was left un-burned from the old place, and shut the door. I get let out like a dog for the occasional bathroom trip and a meal usually twice a day. Life wasn't much but I could hide myself away in the boxes, building a small fortress where I could pretend I was queen and no one would dare touch me. That is, till someone decided to knock down the tower of boxes I built to protect myself. My sanctuary was fragile, I know, but it was all I had to me, it was all I wanted until that day.


	2. Chapter 2: Rubber Bands

The day started out the same as any other. I bathed without washing my hair. _His_ friends didn't like touching me when I wasn't "human-looking". The grunge was my defense, as usual. My hair had started to almost dread in some places, and the whole tangled mess fell to about my waist. I haven't cut it since I was seven. Nine years ago. Felt like eternity on some day—like only yesterday on others. The voice gave a quiet _yup_ in my head, agreeing with me. The only thing I learned to trust was the fact that I wasn't getting out of this.

Bobo—my nickname for the 6 foot 3, body builder of a guard—shuffled along in front of me, grumbling about being in charge of "the little monster". I may be 16, but malnutrition and genetics has dealt me the hand of being short for eternity. 5 foot flat, according to my last "medical examination" performed by someone playing doctor. _His_ friends were knowledgeable and maybe even knew what they were doing, but in no way were they certified. If they were, it was a shock they hadn't lost their certification yet. Then again, no one knew what they did to me. No one knew if I even existed anymore. Everyone probably thought I was dead.

Bobo opened the heavy door with a grunt to my locked cell. I scurried past him, continuing to act like a scared little girl. I expected to hear the sound of the door scraping shut behind me but didn't. I stood stock still staring at the far wall. After an eternity that lasted but a minute, Bobo spoke. "There's a dinner thing tomorrow. He want's you... presentable..." his voice was loud in the quiet of the warehouse. He mumbled something else under his breathe, slammed the door, and walked away. After his footsteps faded, the voice in my head spoke up.

 _You gonna use soap tomorrow?_ it asked in its quiet way. I shook my head and then after thinking about it a little more, I slowly nodded. " _He's_ likely to do something if I don't. Probably painful. You know where the hair brush is?" I asked in a raspy whisper. Over the years, either from limited use or the experiments, my voice has gained a harshness to it. No amount of water soothed it and Mommy wasn't here to give me honey. The voice's answer was more felt than spoken. I walked forward in my darkened room towards the mass of boxes. Some full, some empty, some crushed and flattened; this is what I had for a home since the fire. When I reached the first box, I counted them off heading left. 1...2...3... there, fourth one over and one behind. sticking my hand into the cardboard box, I swished it around, trying to feel out the brush. It was missing half of its bristles but it would work.I sat down on a full box for a seat and got to detangling the mass of curls that wanted to become one. The sound of hair ripping from its roots filled the silence. The only help was that my hair was still wet and I had all day and all night.

Time passed and finally I could pass the brush through my hair without catching it. I gathered it over my shoulder and tried to remember how to braid. It's been a few years since I last braided it. Mommy's humming came back to me. She would always hum while she played with my hair before school. I loved the feel of her hands in my blonde curls. I started humming under my breathe, the voice reciting in my head _over and under, over and under, over and under_ in time with my hands. When I reached the end of my hair I sat there pinching it, lost on what to do with end of it. I was close to just undoing it all when a knock on my door surprised me.

Before I could decide if I wanted to hide or not, the door swung open. I squinted, trying to see who was at my door. "Dinner" was all the visitor said. The voice in my head put a name to the person in front of me. "Marcus". The name slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it. I slapped a hand over my mouth in a vain attempt to take it back. For the last two years I've not said a real word in front of them, just the occasional grunt, and I've never repeated their names. I knew some, but they never bothered to introduce themselves to me. The ones I did know, I had picked up from eavesdropping during the first couple years.

Marcus had made a sound of slight surprise but said nothing else. He stepped inside, placing the tray precariously on the edge of a nearby box. Others usually drop the food on the floor without taking a step in. He was one of the more... personable captors of mine. He didn't join in on giving me medicine or punishments. When I had seen him outside my four walls, he was usually engrossed with computer codes. Marcus switched weight on his feet, looking like he wanted to say something but couldn't quite get the words out. Finally he pulled something off his wrist and held it out to me.

I looked down at his hand in surprise to see a rubber band. I looked back up at his face, not quite able to see his eyes with my poor vision. He didn't seem to be faking in sincerity. Slowly, with much hesitation, I plucked the band out of his hand, careful not to touch his hands. His face shifted slightly, in what looked like a small smile, but still a little off. "You're welcome" he spoke softly before turning around and heading out my room. He eased my door shut behind him.

I stared at the door, holding my breath, waiting. Waiting for what? I don't know. The voice in my head stayed silent as well. My arm got stiff from holding the rubber band out in front of me. I pulled it into my body, still looking at the door. I grabbed my braid, finding the bottom where it was mostly intact, and slipped the band over it. I layered it again and again, making it tight. Still, I sat and waited, watching the door. When my stomach rumbled I let out a sigh and got up to get the food before it got too cold.

 _You're happy? Why are you happy?_ The voice in my head asked, sounding puzzled. I didn't have an answer.


	3. Chapter 3: Mistakes Made Twice

"Brunch" a shrill voice said from the doorway. I looked over my shoulder at the most obnoxious one of my captors. I think her name was Mindy, maybe Mandy, and that she was related to _him_ in someway. It wasn't just me that couldn't stand her, it wasn't hard to notice the eye rolls from the others when she walked into a room.

Mindy/Mandy slid the tray towards me and looked at her acrylic nails. I didn't quite get how the plastic stayed on, but I know that they don't come off easy and when they do it hurts. A lot. Last time when we ended up wrestling, I accidentally—I don't regret doing so—ripped one off. Earned me a slap and a few days without food. Nothing new. When I didn't respond to her, like usual, she sent me a shrewd glare before slamming the door behind her. The sound of her heels clicking was eventually silenced when she went into another room.

I gripped the edge of the tray and slid it towards me, taking a quick sniff. The smell of slightly watery oats and burnt toast. I used the toast to scoop up the oats because they stopped giving me a spoon long ago. I was the mute, dirty, little monster, why would I need to eat like a human?

I was busy consuming my food before it went cold and missed the sound of approaching footsteps. The door cracked open a little bit, letting a sliver of light into my darkness. A head peeked in, followed by a shoulder and a foot, and eventually the rest of the body. The person stood there for a second, letting his eyes adjust, before giving up and opening the door all the way. That fidgety stance belonged to no one but the still lanky boy, who looked to be in his mid-twenties, socially inept, clean freak, ADHD, Timmy. At least he seemed to have ADHD. I can really only go off what I read in books and he fits the stereotype well. Timmy wasn't bad, he was just awkward, in every way possible. And while his visit was unexpected, it is not one to make me tremble.

"Hi," he spoke softly, waiting as if for a response. He seemed expectant of something, of what, I wasn't sure. I let the silence stretch on and on, and tension seemed to grow like a balloon being filled with air. He shifted. And again. And again. His fingers fiddled with the bottom of his button up shirt. He kept glancing between me, my now empty tray, the doorway, and his sneakers. This was going nowhere. Finally I gave in and moved. I grabbed the tray, stood up, and padded over in my bare feet. I wasn't positive this was what he came here for, but it was as good a guess as any. He looked surprises and bewildered at the tray presented to him. He looked once more at my face before taking the tray. "Guess Marcus was talking out his ass when he said he heard you talk" my breath caught in my throat as I struggled to keep my face stoic. I couldn't let them know I could talk still. It's taken forever for them to believe I was mute. "And for you to have said his name of all things, I should have known he was lying" Timmy grumbled, oblivious to my inner panic.

I clenched my hands behind my back, and tilted my head down. Slowly I eased my right foot back, shifting my weight onto it, then easing my left foot the same way. If I could just creep far enough back into the shadows, he might just go away. I had managed to get far enough back that the finer details of his face had blurred out mostly; only my legs were still illuminated from the light coming in the doors. It was at this point he decided to focus on me again. "Oh no, you don't get to go back to doing... whatever it is you do in there... you have to get cleaned up. Guests. That means actually using soap. You reek." He waved a hand in front of his face to accent his point, but the humor in his voice was light. "Come on, I don't have all day to wait for you." He strode in a few steps and grabbed my wrist.

The shock of being touched froze me for a second, but only one. As soon as he started to try tugging me out I resisted. I tried heaving my wrist free but I was weak, and he knew how to keep a strong hold. The thought of sitting down, passive resistance, crossed my mind before I realized he would probably just pick me up. Which meant more touching, and not just my hand or wrist, but around my waist or something. I gave in with a grumble, still forcing him to drag me along at a slow pace to prove my dislike for the situation. The voice in my head which had been silent so far this morning, gave a small sigh of defeat.

Timmy dragged me along to the bathroom, which had stark white walls, a toilet, a pedestal sink, a shower tub with a clear plastic curtain, and a cabinet over top of the toilet. Inside the cabinet was extra shampoos and soaps, as well as a stack of clean towels. This was one of the few updated rooms I've been in since we moved to this location. Bobo and Marcus fixed up this bathroom in the first few days before moving on the next one. It wasn't fancy or cozy, just what was needed. "Your to scrub, wash, shave, anything and everything to make you look like a civilized human being." He spoke with as much command in his voice that I ever heard from him. I quickly glance at myself in the mirror over the sink. My golden locks were still braided from yesterday, but hair was falling out at points. My petite nose looked a little smudgy. I gave a small smile to see my teeth. White and slightly crooked, with a small gap between my front teeth. After Mandy/Mindy complained about my teeth once, I get some whitening crap done regularly, and they double check that I brush my teeth whenever they do the usual medical examinations. They weren't dentists though. I wasn't going to get braces as long as I was with them. I trudged forward the few steps to the shower and turned the water on hot.

Timmy stepped outside the door, shutting it behind himself, and I stripped. Tossing my well-worn clothes on the edge of the sink, I stepped into the blazing hot shower, pulling the curtain around behind me. I was grateful to get hot water here. The last place only had cold water in the shower room I used.

I knew from experience that if I took too long, or if they got tired of waiting, they would come in and shut the water off. No care for privacy. I hurriedly undid the braid, ripping the rubberband from the end and sticking it on my wrist. With a bit of shampoo, I washed the rest of the braid out. I shaved my body, which was in need of it, conditioned my hair, and washed my face. It was while I was washing the last of the suds from my face, the door creaked back open. I turned my body, presenting my back side. "When your done, change into these. Melody will do your hair when you're done." The door shut again with a click.

 _Melody! That's her name,_ the voice in my head clamored at me. _Why did we think it was Mandy?_

I begrudgingly sat still on a stool while Melody tore through my hair with a comb. She continued to mumble to herself about this being _a pain_ or being _unappreciated._ The voice enjoyed making sarcastic comments back to her in my head. I flinched when I felt something burning hot touch my ear. I jerked my head to see something that resembled salad tongs, just more rectangular, and with metal on the inside. Melody gave me a sarcastic "sorry" and went back to running the hot thing through my hair. When she got to doing the hair by my face, I finally saw its purpose. It flattened my natural curls so that my hair hung straight. No wonder this was taking forever. My hair hung to my waist when wet, and only shortened a bit when dry. The weight of it kept the curls from becoming the tight light ringlets I had in childhood. Melody continued to flatten my hair with the hot thing while I tried not to flinch whenever it was close to my face. My right ear continued to sting.

I let out a breathe when she unplugged the cursed thing and turned around. Unfortunately I breathed back in at the wrong time, as she started to spray something that smelt like oranges and tasted like plastic and soap and something fake. She sprayed it all over my head and hair, creating a cloud of the yucky stuff around me. I held my breath and eyes shut tight while it settled. When I finally tilted my head back up and breathed in, Melody was in front my face with a satisfied smirk. "Hair's done, ya lil freak."

She grabbed my chin lifting it up more and forcing my lips together and forward. I glared at her while she put a horrible shade of pinkish-red lipstick on me. She owned so many shades but, no, she had to grab the brightest one. Next came the mascara, which always scared me after she poked my eye with it the first time she tried putting it on me. I wasn't going to let her do that again. I grabbed the thing from her hand, smearing a little bit on the inside of hand, and stood up. I had to lean in close to the mirror to see well enough to put on the damn thing. _Not a bad job, if I do say so myself,_ the voice in my head said after I managed to get it on my eyelashes and not my eyelids. I held the tube out for Melody and she swiped it from me with a sneer on her face. It might have been childish, but when she turned around, I stuck my tongue out at her.

"Awww. She looks adorable like that, with her tongue sticking out at you" a voice said from the entryway to Melody's room. I tucked my tongue back in and spun to see Marcus in the doorway. I remembered my slip up from yesterday and went very still. Melody sent me a final glare before strutting off and out of the room, calling "the thing's all yours now, buddy" over her shoulder.

Marcus turned to me and suddenly I felt trapped. Melody's room was larger than mine, had proper lighting, and furniture that belonged to a bedroom in it. There wasn't another door to escape with, or boxes to hide behind, or shadows to blend in with. I was stuck standing in the middle of her room in some ridiculous lacy baby blue dress, low heels, and straightened hair. I felt naked.

"So, you're going back to being mute again?" Marcus asked from the doorway, blocking the only plausible exit. I couldn't read his face from this distance, but his voice held a curiousness to it. I tried to keep my face passive and hid the trembling in my hands by balling them up in fists. Yesterday was a mistake, one I simply cannot repeat.

Marcus took in my silence and finally gave in waiting for an answer with a slow shake of his head. I thought I heard a mumbled "whatever" before he turned around and stepped out of the doorway. I knew the drill. He was here to get me to wherever it is they wanted me; so when he started walking, I followed. The hallways of this place had been left unfinished. The sections around doors had dry wall, the rest were a wall of insulation. Whenever I walked through these parts, a weird itch in my nose would build up, sort of like I needed to sneeze. I rubbed my nose with the back of my hand and spotted Marcus's rubber band again. I had forgotten about it after my shower. I sneaked a peek up at the back of Marcus's head, noting a similar rubber band holding back his long -for a guy- rusty brown hair. _It doesn't go with the dress. You gonna give it back to him?_ The voice said a little uncharacteristically. It usually agreed with my motto of avoiding contact and conversation. But it had made a point, I can't keep it. I've been punished for less than an accessory, and _he_ had a keen eye for picking out flaws.

So my option was to either ditch the rubber band as I walked or return it to Marcus. Even with the former option sounding like it's the safest, it just felt wrong to do that. This was a gift. I haven't gotten many gifts. The voice in my head could tell I made my mind and gave me some encouragement. I took a deep breathe in and held it, counting to three before exhaling. Tentatively I reached my left hand out, brushing my fingers on the back of Marcus's arm.

He gave a startled jump and whipped around. My mouth opened and shut. I couldn't find the words to explain myself. He started at me with a confused look on his face. "What?" he asks me. I _f you can't say anything then just hand the rubber band over already!_ I couldn't think straight with him staring so intently at me, so I hesitantly slipped the band off my left wrist and held it to him; holding one side of it so that he could take it from me without touching me. When his eyes moved from my face to my hands I could breathe again. I hadn't realized I stopped breathing. He slowly raised his hand up, his eyes flicking back up to meet mine before he pinched the other side of the rubber band. I released it and before I could stop myself I whispered a small "thank you".

I regretted it immediately. Making the same mistake again. But when his faced showed another small smile, one of surprise, and he returned my thanks with a soft "you're welcome" of his own, I didn't hate my tongue as badly in that second. I ducked my head, letting my blonde hair fall like a curtain between myself and Marcus. _Oh, stop smiling already. So he knows his manners? You need to not let it get to you like this._ The voice in my head sounded exasperated at me, and I quickly made sure my lips were turned downward in a frown. I couldn't have smiled. I just couldn't have.


	4. Chapter 4: Meteorites

"There you are! I was getting tired of waiting, you know" the sound of _his_ voice made my entire body freeze. I knew I would have to face him eventually today, but the exchange in the hallway made me forget about it all momentarily. I wasn't ready. I wanted to run back to my boxes again and hide away.

There was seven others in what was once another space with couches and small tables. Now the room had a long, dark wood dining table with eight matching chairs, ornate patterns carved into the wood, and an oil painting of a forest of birch trees in fall hanging on one wall. I wasn't used to seeing this many people at once, and it only added to the sense of panic building in my gut. As Marcus stepped away to take an offered glass from Timmy, I scanned the faces in the room. I recognized Marcus, Timmy, Melody, Bobo, Donald—I nicknamed him that because he was always grumpy about something—and lastly, _him_. The left one new person in the mix. And that new face was staring at me with a slightly shocked look in his grey eyes. I wasn't exactly sure why. It made me consciously look at down at the baby blue dress I wore. It wasn't a color I would've picked to wear if I had a choice, I would've gone with something darker so that I could blend better, and no lace. The dress itself was a simple cut, the solid material ending above my small breasts in a modest manner, lace connecting the front with the back of the dress over my shoulders. It had a high neckline to the lace part, which I didn't really care for, and was sleeveless. The dress came to just above my knees with enough material that it swayed when I walked. It also had a built in under-skirt, which ended with more of the lace, so that it peaked out the bottom of the skirt.

Melody who was always dressed up in dresses and skirts didn't complain about it being weird or ugly, so I could only assume this was actually a nice dress. That still didn't explain why the new face stared at me like I crawled out of a hole and threw up in his lunch.

"Melody, would you be so kind as to fetch Mr. Alushin here another drink?" _His_ voice snapped me out of my pondering. Everyone was moving about, picking seats at the dining table and filling up their glasses from the bottle of wine sat out. I watched as Melody offered our guest a smile and a fluttering of her eyelashes before taking the empty glass from Mr. Alushin's extended hand. Bobo gave an exaggerated eye roll before plopping down in a chair at the center of the table. Marcus sat down across from Bobo, Timmy to the left of Marcus. Melody handed the now filled glass back to Mr. Alushin before sitting across from Timothy between Bobo and the person whom led the kidnapping of me nine years ago. Mr. Alushin took the other end seat. Donald glanced between the two empty seats and sat next to Bobo with a shrug. One seat left.

That one seat was situated between Marcus and the Mr. Alushin, who still watched me carefully. _Take a seat, quickly. If you wait too long he will yell again,_ the voice whispered quietly. It didn't like to talk when we were around _him_ so I knew to take heed. I stepped quietly towards the table, still unsure if I really should. Running back to my room and hiding in my cardboard fortress sounded so tempting. But I knew the repercussions. I wouldn't go unpunished. I stalled a little too long before pulling out my chair. "Seriously, Juliett, would you sit down already? We won't bite. Tonight." His words were full of his annoyance, the last bit said with dry humor. And he wasn't kidding about biting. He did it before, and would do it again.

All eyes were on me as scooted into my seat. The chairs were tall enough that only my toes touched the ground. I ducked my head letting my blonde hair fall like veil between everyone's stares and my face. After a painful few seconds, conversations started up, food was passed, lies were spouted, and no one gave me a second glance. I was able to relax just enough to let my shoulders drop. It was going to be a long dinner.

Only after had I relaxed did I realize he used my name. They hadn't called me a civil name for years. I'm surprised anyone remembered it, I hardly did.

Real food that was warm and full of flavors were rare and far between and I couldn't resist stuffing myself. No one spoke to me for the most part. Just one line from Melody when she shot me an evil glare warning me about spilling pasta sauce on the dress. I tuned out everyone till Timmy had gotten up, collecting the other's finished dishes. When his hand passed in front of me I jumped in my seat, startled back to reality. Donald gave a soft chuckle. "You spooked the little thing Timothy, better apologize. Have to mind your manners, ya know?" Donald's baritone of voice was light with humor. I usually disagreed with his humor but right now I was too confused to even think what he was laughing about or why. My eyes were wide sweeping over everyone at the table. Once again attention was on me.

And then Timmy spoke to me, "Forgive me, Juliett, I never meant to scare you. My humblest apologies." He held his free hand over his heart and offered me a small mock bow. Now I was just damned lost. My eyes were hurting from not blinking but I just continued to stare at him like he grew a second head. I would've believed that more easily than what I just heard. Melody, in her high pitched voice, jumped in. "Well, are you going to accept his apology? Or are you just going to sit there like a dumb mute?" My head swiveled to her and then back to a waiting Timmy. He had a slight smirk on his face. He managed to hold back from fidgeting for a good bit. When I noticed the way one of his fingers, from the hand over his chest, toyed with a button, I narrowed my eyes. They were toying with me again.

I couldn't think of any way to get rid of the attention and the moment was stretching on, making me all the more uncomfortable. There had to be something to get him to give up on me speaking. My eyes glanced to his other hand, the one full of plates. Quickly I grabbed my plate, piled on the used silverware and handed it to him. The startled look on his face when I shoved my dishes in front of him caused Donald to break out in laughter. Others joined in, chuckling.

"This is the second time you've shoved your dishes at me today, I'm starting to think you look down on me," Timmy's voice was light in humor but there was something in his eyes that kept my eyes on him. He seemed genuinely hurt. Donald's laughing turned to howling.

"You are always going to be the whipping boy if you keep this up. Even the pet's out-ranking you now!" Donald's comment rubbed me the wrong way. I was glad the attention was off me, but now Timmy was the uncomfortable one. As far as the people I was around went, Timmy was the second nicest. He joined the group three years ago and only joined in their games when it couldn't be avoided. Timmy took my plate adding it to the pile and went on collecting dishes, a forced smile fixed to his face.

Slowly everyone returned to their previous conversations. I sunk into my chair, wishing to retreat to my room for the nth time that night. I peeked a glance around the table. Donald was in a heated debate with Bobo about things I didn't understand. Timmy was refilling his glass with more alcohol. My original kidnapper stood up commanding the attention of the room. He let his caramel eyes travel over everyone as our voices died off into silence. Finally, he spoke, his gaze directed towards our guest. "There is a very important reason I had planned to have this dinner tonight on such short notice. You might not be aware, but there is a meteor shower passing by at 12:04. It's 11:56 now. What better to end the night then watching giant rocks burn up in the atmosphere?" He said with a small laugh.

"That would be quite the sight. The weather's perfect for this as well. May I ask where will we be watching this from?" Mr. Alushin responded, calm. His collected-ness was starting to creep me out. He managed to sound interested and bored and the same time with everything mentioned. Only when he looked at me did I see any real interest in his hazel green eyes. Not even the delicious food or the poking fun at Timmy earlier caused a shift in facial expression. He just wore that poker face like everything was just as expected.

Melody answered Mr. Alushin's question, "Will be heading up to the top floor. We converted one of the rooms as a sort of study, complete with a large skylight." She cheerily jumped up, "it is still bit cold up there, so you may want your jacket." The others rose and from their seats, chairs scraping against the floor. I wasn't sure if I was invited to watch or not so I stayed seated.


	5. Chapter 5: Daily Chores

Mr. Alushin came by semi-regularly now. Sometimes without much of a heads up. It was becoming routine for me to be woken up early for a small breakfast, in which whoever brought to me that day would wait for me to finish it, before dragging me off to the shower. I would exit the shower to find another bright colored dress draped over the pedestal sink. I would dress in it and brush my teeth only to be find an annoyed Melody outside my door. She would rant on and on as we walked the short distance to her room, and then would complain while doing my hair. After the first couple times she told me how to do my makeup myself. I shared my small victory with the voice, the only one keeping my daily time with Melody sane.

Afterwards, I would be led out for medical examinations or back into my own room. If and when Mr. Alushin arrived, I was called out of my room and spent the rest of the day sitting around in silence while the others talked amicably. I tuned out their words. They mostly explained to Mr. Alushin what they all did, the discoveries and progress they have made, et cetera. The only thing that wasn't repeat was when they had claimed I was Timmy's niece. When I looked up, Timmy sent me a nervous smile.

"I can see the family resemblance. You both have the same colored blonde hair," was all Mr. Alushin said after hearing their lie.

The new routine, while different, settled in quickly with everyone. I was used to being able to relax in my room of shadows and boxes, and it was uncomfortable at first being out in the open, under their scrutinous gazes whenever they wanted. Eventually I found myself relaxing. I kept myself from talking but the voice in my head went on with telling lame jokes, singing random tunes, and always making sarcastic comments about the others. It quieted only when _he_ stepped into the room, when he left the voice was back and just as happy as before.

Melody and Donald were giving Mr. Alushin a tour of their other locations. I have not been to any of them before but had the feeling they were a lot like this warehouse. Bobo was out as well, leaving Marcus, Timmy, and I in the main room for the rest of the day. As per usual, Marcus typed away at the glowing screen of his computer and I sat in a stiff chair in a corner. Timmy fidgeted in his seat on old leather couch they brought in not too long ago. The worn, dark brown leather looked inviting, if Twitchy-Mic-Twitch-Twitch wasn't there of course. I rested my head back against the stiff frame of my chair and tried to get comfortable.

Last night's dreams hovered at the edge of my mind. They were nightmares of some kind but I couldn't remember much. Just a couple of nondescript faces sneering at me and cold, the feeling of freezing to death. Remembering it had me shivering in my bright orange hoodie shirt and denim skirt. Least they stopped forcing me to wear those stupid dresses everyday.

"You cold?" Marcus's soft voice cut across the room, causing me to vault from my chair. He hadn't said much to me since the first night Mr. Alushin came to visit. I couldn't read his face from across the room. He didn't normally toy with me like the other, _and he gave you that rubber band, remember?_ the voice in my head intervened. "Well?" he asked again. He wasn't gonna drop it just because of my silence.

I slowly shook my head in a exaggerated sign for a 'no'. I honestly was on the warm side. There was vent in the wall by my feet blowing warm air across my bare toes. Marcus returned to his computer and started typing. I thought he believed me only for him to speak up again. "Timmy, go fetch her a blanket or something."

"Eh?" Timmy looked up from the book in his hands, "Why me? You do it!"

"'Cause I'm doing actual work, you're just reading." Marcus answered without turning away from the monitor. Timmy grumbled but got up, tossing the book back onto the couch. He shot me a look before heading down the hallway leading to stairs up and other rooms. His footsteps faded off and I turned my gaze back to Marcus. He sat there typing away at his computer still. I didn't understand him.

"If you need something speak up, I know you can talk." He spoke without glancing back. I swallowed. With the others I could still pretend but not with him. I made the mistake and had to pay the price. I tucked my feet up on the chair and wrapped my arms around my knees. _It will be fine, he doesn't like seeing the others touch us, he won't cause any pain_ the voice assured me. With little confidence and hardly any volume I replied.

"I'm not cold. I don't need a blanket. I…" I wasn't sure what I was going to say next. I watched as Marcus sat straighter in his chair, and then slowly spin his chair around to face me. I couldn't read his face from the distance but his body was open to me, relaxing my tensed up muscles. We sat like that, facing each other and watching one another from across the room, until Timmy returned with a soft looking blanket in his arms.

"This good enough?" Timmy asked Marcus sarcastically. When Marcus didn't move to face him, he peeked in my direction. My eyes shifted between the two of them uncomfortably. I wasn't sure what was going on anymore. _I think Marcus is waiting for us to tell Timmy. Now he's giving us the same silence we gave all of them._ I let my gaze drop to my toes. The nails were rough from me tearing away the white part. I spoke into my knees. "I'm not cold Timmy. Sorry" I added the 'sorry' to be polite. Being snarky never got me anywhere with them.

"Holy shit! Did she just talk to me? And say my name?" Timmy dropped the blanket in his surprise. I glanced between Marcus and me once more before striding over to me. He grabbed one of my wrists wrapped around my legs, pulling apart my comforting position. "Say something again. Tell me I'm not imagining things," his eyes were full of excitement and a bit of shock. I tried not to flinch away but his hand seemed to burn around my thin wrist.

"You're not imagining it. Can you please let go of me?" I asked him, without meeting his gaze. My voice went soft at the end.

Timmy let go with a mumbled 'sorry', and fumbled back a step, fidgeting with elation. He let his blue-grey eyes trail over me, like he was seeing me for the first time again. Marcus, who had gotten up without me noticing, stood to Timmy's side. "I told you she could talk still," he said to Timmy, elbowing him in the side, "and just yesterday you were calling me a liar."

"It's not my fault! She hasn't been talking for so long we just assumed she went mute as a side effect from one of those stupid medications" Timmy replied, a little indignant. He turned back to me, bending slightly to be more on eye level with me. I sat back as far as I could in the chair, creating as much space between us as possible. " Who knew?" he asked himself.

Marcus cleared his throat. "Actually, only we know. I haven't told the others yet. I'm not sure if we should." I was shocked to hear he kept this secret and my eyes swerved to watch his gaze drop to his shoes.

"You didn't? They would love to know. They'll be furious to know you've kept quiet for this long." Timmy replied miffed. _Oh no! If Marcus or Timmy does tell them then… then… then who knows what might happen to us?!_ The fear in it's words scared me. It was right. They couldn't tell them.

Before I could second guess my actions, I let my hands grab hold of both of them. I held the edge up Marcus's gray, cotton, polo shirt and the right sleeve to Timmy's white button up dress shirt. "You can't tell!" My voice cracked from the sudden rush of words across my tongue. I swallowed nervously, glancing between their surprised expressions. "Please don't tell them… please." I begged. They looked to each other and I watched both of them weigh the cons to my request. "I'm scared. I don't want them to know," I felt my lip start to quiver in remembrance of how it used to be with my captors. I had done everything to escape back then.

 _I was 13 again. I had stolen cleaners from the upstairs closet. I wasn't exactly sure my plan was going to work, it was a last ditch effort. I poured the bleach first down the hardwood stairs, watching with a sense of glee. Everyone went around barefoot or in fancy-pansy shoes. They wouldn't want to step in this. I double checked the window was open, and unscrewed the top of the next chemical product. With a toss, the liquid sloshed everywhere, mixing. The smell was intoxicating. I quickly unscrewed the rest and spilled them out as well. The fumes were overwhelming and I felt myself rock a little from dizziness. the sound of voices froze me for a second of pure panic. I had to hurry. I ditched the window cleaner in hand and turned tail. With a huff, I pulled my top half through the window I had made sure was unlocked before I began dumping chemicals. They were shouting from the base of the stairs. Angry. I was done for if I was caught. Maybe they would just kill me this time._

 _With a strain, I pulled a leg through and I nearly lost balance. My knuckles turned white from the weight of holding myself stable and my arms shook. I was weak. Oh so weak. Carefully I stood up and looked around. It was a small jump to the roof hanging over a lower floor to the abandoned apartments. I heard_ him _shout now._ Take a deep breath. You can make it, I know you can, _the voice comforted me._

 _With a deep inhale, I held my breath and counted to three. I exhaled a little more sure of myself. I had read people were able to do impossible things when they have to. It was an adrenaline thing. I hope the science book didn't lie._

" _Get back here you little bitch!" someone screeched. I didn't care to think of whom._

 _I jumped forward, arms outstretched to grab hold. And I did. My chest slammed into the wall just before the roof and the breath was knocked out of me, but I held on for dear life. I couldn't feel much strength left, but I mustered what I still had to pull myself up. Panting hard, I crawled on my hands and knees to the other side, the small roof's shingles biting into my dry skin. This side of the roof had a window beneath it, one rather large enough to offer the room below it a pleasant view of pine forests._

 _With acrobatic skills I didn't possess, I managed to get myself on the window's ledge without falling the painful distance that may or may not be fatal, but surely would be painful. The window was cracked open at the bottom in hopes that a small breeze of the summer air would find its way in. Carefully I shimmied it open further and slide in. I was so much closer to freedom then the last time I tried. A small bud of hope pushed against my ribs to bloom. I felt a rare smile stretch my face as I looked around me._

 _I was in a room I didn't recognize. It was empty except for the several filing cabinets shoved into one corner on my left, and a beat up desk shoved in the right corner. A tilted wheely chair sat abandoned in the center of the room. I crept forward, around the chair and to the door, pausing to listen for the signs of life on the other side. If I could just make it to the second floor I may just be able to get out and still avoid the dogs out front. There was a strong and old maple tree by a window on the second story. With a bit of luck I could use that to get myself out of the rest of building. Again I inhaled and held, counting to three before releasing._ You're good, now go! They won't stay gone for long! _With the voice's words I turned the brass knob and pushed forward…._

"Fine." Marcus spoke, drawing me out of my thoughts. I looked up at him with a sort of giddiness building in my gut. A nostalgic feeling. _Hope. You're hopeful,_ the voice put a name to it. Oh how long has it been since I let myself be hopeful for anything.

I turned to Timmy, trying to hold still as I watched him nod to himself. He glanced between us before accenting his agreement "I'll keep silent". I let the first real smile in years split my lips. Maybe since that last attempt for freedom. The corners of my mouth tugged so far that they physically ached. Timmy raised his hand and patted me awkwardly on the top of my head, it was awkward but soothing at the same time. For once I didn't flinch at a hand approaching me. These two might not free me, but they surely wouldn't hurt me anymore if they could avoid it.


	6. Chapter 6:Trusting Someone

The sound of several pairs of footsteps and muffled voices sprung us into action again. In a flurry Marcus scooped up the soft blanket, tossing it onto me. When I fixed it around my shoulders I looked up to find him, back at his computer chair, typing away. Timmy was seated on the couch, with an obvious tension in the way he sat. His left leg started bouncing up and down rapidly, and one of his hands rubbed a page of the book to calm himself.

Bobo and Donald arrived first, followed by Mr. Alushin and a Melody who hung on his very words. A joke was told and they all laughed before claiming the room for themselves.

They spread out, flooding the large room with their presence and voices. Donald strode over to check in with Marcus as Melody gave Timothy a look that must have made him want to leave because he vacated that seat in a hurry. Melody grabbed Mr. Alushin's arm and tugged him down to sit next to her on the couch. I tuned out their conversation as I watched Timothy, fidget, scan the room for a place to occupy, and then slowly walk the long way around the room to stand near me without really standing next to me.

He offered me a quick, one-sided smile before fiddling with a picture hanging on the wall. I could make out the picture enough from the angle I was at to see it was a forest, lush and green. He tilted it one way, and then the other, before making it straight again. He seemed pleased to have it straight, and I felt an urge to just tip it slightly, just to watch him fiddle with it again.

I did a quick scan of the room, no one was looking our way, they were consumed with their own conversations. Quietly, I slipped off of the chair, clutching the blanket around my shoulders, and tentatively inched towards Timmy. He noticed my approach and his eyes widened. He checked over his shoulder and then motioned for me to go back to the chair. I gave a small smile and reached out for the painting. The confusion clear on his face and the thrill made me want to laugh. _It's fun to play with someone, isn't it? Just don't get caught!_ The voice reminded me. My hand now hovered the corner of the art when I gave a slight nod so the voice knew I listened. Timmy's eyebrows drew together as he tried to figure out what I was doing.

And then I pushed it. Just a fraction out of place before slipping back towards my chair. Over my shoulder I watched him glance confusedly between me and the painting. Finally it dawned on him what I did.

He whispered so quietly it was hard to hear "are you playing with me?" He seemed so miffed at my actions. My shoulders shook with a giddy, childish joy; I hadn't played with anyone in so long. I gave a slow nod and mouthed back to him "dare you not to fix it."

He caught my meaning and looked back at the painting. He tensed and cracked his neck, fistspressed to his side. I watched as Timmy switched the weight of his feet, glared at me only to look back at the crookedness and twitch. With another glare in my direction he raised his hand to correct it.

"Ah, Mr. Alushin, I apologize for my tardiness. A customer had called about some sort of misunderstanding on his part. After re-reading the contract he came to an understanding." He walked in, his voice halting all conversations. Mr. Alushin rose from his seat to accept a handshake from him. My blood ran cold as I watched, like _he_ would be able to tell something had changed in his absence.

"Oh, no worries, Sir. Your cousin Melody has been a gracious tour guide. We visited your building out in West Mayfield. The place certainly has… _character_. I've been doing some thinking on my own recently, and I think you'll be quite interested hearing the details." Mr Alushin's smooth voice carried well in the space that seemed infinitely smaller compared to an hour ago. "Why don't we meet for a drink later, and I'll bring the materials with me?"

 _He_ nodded his head in contemplation. "Sounds good, but I'll have to pass on the drinks. We haven't tested the most recent medication's reaction to alcohol. Wouldn't want my mind shutting down on me over something so minor."

"Ah no, of course not. Then maybe some good steaks instead?" Mr. Alushin suggested in return. "I know a great place, service is great, food is even better, and you don't have to worry about noisy listeners there." When I turned my attention back to _him_ though, I shivered. He was looking right at me, not even hearing Mr. Alushin's words, and with the look of a child with a new toy in his eyes. He started walking slowly to me, his caramel colored eyes becoming clearer to me while I wished to erase them from my mind. I backed up as far as possible in the seat and tried to keep calm, he hated hysterics as much as he hated… well, _me_.

I gulped and suppressed a shiver. When he was close enough I could smell the sweet cologne clinging to his pale grey sports jacket. "I know what we can do. We'll put off our talk for a night or two. In the meantime we can test what would happen if we mixed the drug with a bit of alcohol. We do have our very own little guinea pig, now don't we?" My bloods started pumping faster and faster in my ears as his words registered. He wanted to do a test. I fought to keep myself from hyperventilating at the thought. They haven't done one of their tests in months. The last one left me feverish and sick for days, until I had finally passed out and woke up with an IV drip. A small squeak escaped my mouth and I bit my tongue to keep from begging him to change his mind.

He lifted his hand in a calculated movement, and in a robotic way, he caressed my cheek. I couldn't stop the flinch from his touch. I watched the edge of his mouth tick as he pressed forward, rubbing his palm against my cheek in a way that should have been comforting. A vague memory of my mother overlaid reality and I saw Mommy patting my cheek the same way. I let myself escape in the fuzzy memory for a precious second only to be drawn out by the sharp tug on my scalp.

With a jerk, he ripped me from my seat by the hair on the back of my head. The blanket Timmy had fetched fell from my shoulders to the floor."Richard, get the leather straps. Timothy, the medicine. Ten milligrams should be enough. In an hour we'll give her something strong. Scotch? That will work. Marcus find some. Melody, dear, get the lab ready." Everyone snapped into action at his command, Melody's high heels clicking softly against the hard floors. In seconds there was only the three of us left in the main room: Mr. Alushin, him, and I.

I couldn't hold back the soft whimper of fear that escaped my lips. _He_ didn't seem to notice, or care, but simply tightened his grip on my hair. Mr. Alushin on the other hand now stared at me, his mouth ever so slightly open. His expression was schooled but in his eyes I saw -no _felt-_ his horror and guilt. He must have had an idea of what their experiments might entail. Of course he would though, he had been talking business deals with the devil incarnate. But the subtle look in his eyes confirmed a subconscious feeling that he wasn't a man who enjoyed inflicting pain.

The moment ticked by and a watch gave a quiet beep. _He_ let go of my hair to twist his wrist to check the hour. I used the chance to scurry backwards and put space in between the two of us. He didn't seem to care, he knew I couldn't escape him for long even if I was to get out of the converted warehouse. "Mr. Alushin, do you wish to stick around and wait to see the results of this experiment? If it proves successful then I would love to have a drink with you. It's been a long while since I could enjoy a good whiskey." he asked of Mr. Alushin, whom hesitated before giving a curt nod.

Mr. Alushin turned his back to us and sat back down in the corner of the worn couch. With a sigh he gestured to other side. "How long do you believe we would have to wait to see the effects?" he asked after my captor had sat down with a flop. "Even if effects are not immediate, there might be damage that would become apparent in the morning, or if these two mix on a regular occurrence." _He_ slid a fleeting glance to me that conveyed he didn't give a rat's ass what 'damage' could happen. He brushed a hand through his dark bangs back over his head and rubbed. The fact he was actually thinking up a proper answer astounded me.

His words were not something that brought hope, no, they squeezed my heart with their implications. "I only take two-point-five milligrams, and the medicine is rather quick acting. We know how to monitor brain waves to double check that it fully in effect, after that, I hope it will pick up any changes in the chemical balances caused by the alcohol. The result could be anything though. She could die or nothing could happen, maybe the medicine will just stop working. We don't have any predictions on the outcome but that is why we test these things first on guinea pigs, right?" His sardonic smile chilled me and I suppressed another shiver. He turned back around to face Mr. Alushin. "We were quite lucky to find Juliett so quickly. Not many children can be so perfect a match for these experiments. The first three children we -ah- checked out, weren't a fit, you see. I thought we may have had to go through twenty or so till we found a healthy and sound child that would work. And look, she's lasted a lot longer than we expected her to. We all placed bets when she first came to us on how long she would live, and she's outlived every one of them," he started to laugh as if my life was a joke to him, that my ability to still breath was somehow amusing.

I watched as Mr. Alushin shifted slightly in his chair. He let out a low chuckle but his eyes weren't looking at either of us, like he was calculating something. When he looked back to _him_ , he was smiling. "So you're saying, Pierce, that there was three other children before this miss here came into your care?" Mr. Alushin managed to make his question come off as simple curiosity but there was something in his green eyes that didn't match up. A seriousness there.

"Oh yes, they were little monsters. Those boys wouldn't listen, not like Juliet. They would always fight and curse. They never took the time to look at the bigger picture here. That's why I thought to look for a girl. They are so much sweeter." _He_ looked in my direction with a wistful expression, not really seeing me there. After a few seconds his eyes focused and hardened on me, the slight smile on his lips turning into a frown. As he stared, the frown deepened and he was practically glaring. I felt the first beads of sweat form at the base of my neck. I knew this look. It was the warning before hell broke lose.

 _He_ slowly rose from his seat on the leather couch and started towards me, taking deliberate steps. Mr. Alushin rose as well, glancing between us. He visibly gulped and I felt his facade crack. He was scared. Scared for me. "Pierce, what do you have in mind?" Mr. Alushin managed to keep his voice even, and it brought _him_ back from wherever his mind goes in these moments. My captor paused slowly relaxed his stance. There was one final twitch of his face before an easy smile was on his face again.

"Oh, nothing really. I was thinking of having some fun before the others are ready for her in the lab. But now might not be the best time." I breathed out the breathe I was holding at his words, letting my tense shoulders drop. "I'll have all day tomorrow to do so," _he_ said with a wink in my direction.

My heart stopped for a moment and my vision swam with black dots. _Breathe!_ the voice in my head wailed and I did. _Don't do that. You need to keep your wits for the both of us, you hear?_ it spoke to me in a soft whisper like it was afraid that _he_ would hear into my head as well. I forced myself to breathe slowly, in through my nose and out through my mouth. When I could no longer hear the pounding of my heart in my ears, I looked up to see I was back to being ignored.

I stayed where I was for a while, watching the two talk without hearing their words. My trance was broken by Timmy entering the room first, followed by Marcus and Donald. And so the game began.

I didn't fight Donald as he dragged me by my twisted arm. The discomfort was a weak meow compared to the roaring panic building in ferocity in my chest. His hands were cold but they brought back memories when I fought back. This was not the time to reminisce. I was drug through the hallway at the rear of the group and down a flight of stairs. Ahead, I could hear Melody's high pitched voice welcome Mr. Alushin to their "little lab," that just so happened to be filled with all sorts of whiz-dads that inflicted pain or deprived me of my senses.

I kept my head down as I passed through the metal doorway. The heavy doors shut behind me with a definite click. A low whistle was given in appreciation of the room and Donald tossed me roughly to the floor. The way I was held made it impossible to brace in time and my head slammed into the floor with a sick thud. My vision blurred either from pain or tears but I wasn't sure, all I could focus on was the pair of men's dress shoes in front me. My head slowly tipped back, to find Marcus standing there in his dress slacks and a light grey polo, hair still tied back with a rubber band.

I felt both a hollow hope and burdening dread at the sight of his face. Sure, he wasn't a friend, but he wasn't an enemy either. I watched as he blinked away the signs of discomfort on his face. Marcus shook his head slowly and humored with the group, "you sure you want to waste a bottle of scotch on her?"

The sound of laughter was echoed and amplified in the sterile room. I tuned out the sound of them and forced myself into a trance. I didn't want to hear their voices or know the gritty details of the whatever they had planned. Nothing they could do to me would surprise me anymore. I closed my eyes and counted off the beats of my heart, the filling and emptying of my lungs. I let myself be pulled off the floor and pushed into a chair. The familiar leather straps came down on my wrists and around my waist, binding me to the cold metal of the test chair, and I accepted it all without protest. The sounds of voices were a low rumble in my ears and someone slid the sleeve of my shirt up on my right arm. The slight prick of a needle made my eyes flutter open. Melody's manicured nails were circling my thin arm and forcing the amber liquid into my bloodstream.

A sense of nausea rose up and I forced it back down, swallowing thickly. My old fear of needles was almost laughable, but the effects of whatever "medicine" they gave me never failed to make me wish for freedom more. The needle was removed and I stole a quick glance at the red skin on my right shoulder, riddled with little scars from past injection. A small droplet of blood had welled up in place of the needle and I watch in fascination as it inflated and then rested in a bubble shape upon my arm. When the first wave of headaches hit, I shut my eyes and shut the pain out. I breathed deeply, flexing my fingers and toes, prepping for the next round. It was more unpleasant than I remembered. The third wave forced a whimper out of my lips. I clenched my teeth, holding back from making another sound.

I was no longer aware of my surroundings. There was just me restrained to my seat and the pain in my head. _No, I am still here with you,_ the harshness of the voice cut through the pain for a brief second. _I hurt too. You're not alone in this pain, remember._ I nodded my response, and felt blood in my head slosh like honey, slow and heavy.

Muffled voices broke through the darkness and then a new pain. My eyes flew open, and I twisted my jaw. The pain was from a backhand, and the one in front of me poised for another strike was Donald. His usual grumpiness was nowhere to be found. He was excited by this. Lucky for me, his hit made it possible to focus again.

Everyone was gathered around, sitting in different chairs and leaning on desks in the lab. Timmy's gaze was the only one trained on me. I could see the worry in his face even from this distance, and to my surprise he wasn't fidgeting or twitching at all. That fact was astounding but made me seriously think about the _his_ plan. Not only was Timmy standing stock still, but Donald looked giddy like a child on christmas morning. This was going to be a very bad experience for me. A very, very, bad one.

"Yo! Boss, she's awake again. You want to go through with the alcohol?" Donald's shout grated against my ears, causing another wave of pain to pound in my head. Dizziness washed over me and I started to pitch forward. "Oh no you don't, you're staying awake or I get to slap you again. Not that I'm complaining." Donald's arms caught me, roughly grabbing and squeezing me, making me cough and draw in a shaky breath. With a shove, I was slammed back into my seat, my head bouncing off the back. This time red and green spots swam before my eyes, falling like confetti. "That's better, sweetie," he said with a pat on my head.

 _He_ was engaged in a deep conversation with Mr. Alushin, but gestured Marcus forward with a lazy flick of the wrist. Marcus grabbed a glass and the bottle of Scotch. He paused only a second in hesitation before heading my way. Donald switched places, and said over his shoulder to Marcus, "if she starts to fall asleep, give a good ol' slap, will ya?" I shuddered, hoping Marcus wouldn't go that far, but still trying to wake myself up more none the less. The pounding in my head was subsiding enough for me to think straight again.

Marcus gave Donald a smile and a nod, but it was forced. Marcus turned to face me, looking apologetic. It wasn't his fault, I knew that, but I still wanted to scream. This small bit of peace I have gotten used to in these past few weeks has ruined me. I used to not care if they did their stupid experiments, I wasn't afraid anymore. But now... now I wanted to cry and beg. Marcus poured the drink into a glass and held it to my lips. The cool glass pressed against my lips, but I couldn't force myself to take a sip.

Marcus heaved a sigh and glanced over his shoulder. The others were busy talking, paying us no mind. Timmy was fiddling with his shirt. Marcus turned back to me with a beseeching look. I shook my head slightly, wary of giving myself another headache. Marcus only pressed the glass harder against my mouth, it was almost painful now but I refused.

"Come on," he whispered to me, shoving the glass again against my lips. I felt some of the scotch splash on my upper lip, the woodsy scent tickling my nose. "Juliett you need to drink this, I don't want to hurt you but this is unavoidable. Just drink it, please."

A pathetic sounding whimper escaped me, but I refused to open my mouth. He withdrew the glass back from my face by an inch and looked at the bottle in his other hand. He was thinking something, and I wasn't sure what. When he looked back to me, his eyes were steeled over. I knew there was no chance of winning now. He held the glass back up to my lips and commanded me with one word, "drink."

I obeyed. It was just a small sip at first but the taste was foreign and it sort of mixed together, my panic being the strongest taste at the moment. I continued to sip the drink, taking it one gulp at a time. I finished the glass and breathed in my first deep breathe. That is, till I saw Marcus pour another drink.

He answered my look quietly, "you're to drink the whole bottle." _Oh joy, this is going to be long night,_ the voice in my head responded sarcastically. It sounded foggier than usual, like it was coming from a distance away and not from inside my head. I blamed the double-dose of meds.

"What is taking you so long, Marcus? She should have finished off the bottle by now," _his_ voice abruptly came from across the room. I watched as he turned to Mr. Alushin and told him to 'wait a moment'. Then, he stalked towards us. My heart, pounding in my ears, fell into rhythm with his steps. When he was standing next to me, looming over my seated position, he yanked the bottle of scotch out of Marcus's hand.

He gestured for Marcus to back off, and he did; leaving me alone to face _him_. My captor didn't beat around the bush, he always got the job done quickly. He grabbed my face with his left hand, pinching down on my jaw and forcing it open. In his right hand was the bottle of scotch. He didn't bother to pour into a cup first. Instead, he went right to pouring it in my mouth.

The scotch warmed its way down my throat. I wanted to cough it up but I was afraid I would choke on it, so I continued to swallow mouthful after mouthful of the golden liquid. Finally, the onslaught relented. The last drops slid down my throat, and the hand released my face. I couldn't help the coughs now, and they came, clawing up my throat.

 _He_ lowered himself to eye level with me. His lips slowly transformed into the smile I remember from nine years ago. The smile that tricked me, looking so charming and trustworthy. A twisted part of me was happy to see it again; the rest of me would love nothing more than for his face to be dumped into burning acid at the moment.

"Sweet, sweet Juliet, how are you feeling, child? Do you hear the voices? Do they scream? Do you feel pain? Tell me, child, or you WILL feel pain. I promise," _he_ cooed at me.


End file.
